


Callipygian

by Davechicken



Series: Kylux - Fluff & Angst [145]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 16:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9393608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: On the subject of Kylo Ren's ass-tributes.





	

Hux is sure he’s blushing. He can’t help it. He’s blushing, because - well - damnit. Kylo Ren had the indecency under that mask to be somehow both cute and handsome, soft and sharp, enticing and alluring… all those nice qualities with a nose that was born to slide between ass-cheeks and lips that were created to suck on a cock. He had ears made for holding a throat still for target practice, and hair that bounced and waved at you to get your attention and make you slide your fingers through it, and knot in deep.

Hux had _hated him_ for all those things, even as he’d been completely enchanted by, and besotted with, each and every last inch of them. The pale skin that glowed with happiness, the flecks of stars that mapped out his face. Oh yes, Hux had _hated him_ (with his mouth) (and hands). He’d hated when the truth under all those layers became apparent with that fierce bird-span of shoulders, or the chest he could bend a man over and break his spirit just by pointing to those nipples. 

All of it. So very evil, bad and wrong. Hux had lapped all the details in with a covetous glee as Kylo let himself be opened up, like a patient etherised on the operating table.

He wasn’t even going to _start_ on Kylo’s cock. (Okay, so he would. But later.)

The thing that Hux _absolutely despises_ him for, though?

When he turns. He turns, and shows Hux those rippling, ‘I can bench press a Death Star’ shoulders, the soft curls of hair, the dip in his spine, the dimples over his ass, and…

The ass. Yes. Just that. Two perfectly sculpted play-puddings. Nope, that doesn’t describe them well enough. Ivory, durasteel-tight buns and a crack that conceals the secret deep within that Hux wants to lick, finger, fuck. The way his buttocks perk high up like they’re arching from his thighs in surprise, and the way every little flicker of emotion seems to be there in the symmetrical twin-moons and…

“Is… is everything okay?”  


Hux can’t speak. Holy fucking hellfire. _That ass._

“Get on the bed,” he manages, and he’s slightly concerned he’s just going to hump at Kylo’s leg and come all over him.   


Why didn’t he strip him sooner? Why indeed. All that tension, and this was sitting there, ready for him to spoil.

Kylo goes where he’s told, and Hux follows, shoving his tongue so far down his throat he swears he can taste the man’s voicebox.

 _Maker_. This is going to be _so much fun._


End file.
